Of Ledgers And Layers
by A Lily By Any Other Name
Summary: Ledger: n. An account book of final entry, in which business transactions are recorded.
1. Itsy Bitsy Spider

**A/N: This was actually a fanfic idea I had since, like, last year. Basically, its a brief character introspection where each character is given a chapter. I don't really know much about any of the MCU Avenger's backstories (except Hawkeye's) so, most of the information on here will be a blend of canon comic snippets and my own inferences. I'll try to update as often as possible. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel.**

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**Of Ledgers And Layers  
A Lily By Any Other Name**

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**I. Itsy Bitsy Spider**

"_My name is… Madame Natasha… But you… Can call me The Black Widow!"_

She was born in the middle of a harsh Russian winter. Snow fell relentlessly to the ground, the skies were overcast and the air was cold. She doesn't remember the exact day—or month— she was born on. She doesn't remember her parent's names or their faces; doesn't remember if she had any siblings. All the memories she could have possibly carried with her stolen.

Survival of the fittest was a deep-instilled mantra which she lived by for many years. She was a favorite in the Red Room; most of the other girls feared her. The ones that didn't soon did. The Room had made her strong—almost invincible—and deadly. It had taught her control and discipline. It had taught her to conceal what she felt.

But it had also made her weak.

She still had nightmares about it; some nights she woke up drenched in a cold sweat. Her mind reeled and her heart raced. Flashbacks of the grotesque experiments the KGB had performed in order to make her their perfect weapon. Sometimes she let herself wonder who she would be had none of this ever happened.

But she can't change the past.

She was—no, _is_—the Black Widow.

And she would _always _be the Black Widow. A super spy turned rogue assassin.

Or is she?

For a while, she was Natalia Romanova. It was her birth name; the name her mama had given her. That was what she went by back then—when she didn't need aliases in order to keep her identity safe. Since then she'd been a Grace, a Sofia, an Anya, a Natalie. Now, she was Natasha Romanoff. She'd stuck with that one for a while. She once tried to convince herself that names were nothing but a word. But all names have meanings. Natalia, Natasha and Natalie all meant "born on Christmas day". Grace meant "charm". Sofia meant "wisdom". Anya meant "merciful". Was there some sort of pattern here? Had she subconsciously chosen these aliases for the meanings they carried? Was her psyche trying to inform her of something long forgotten and dormant?

…Maybe she was right.

Names are just names.

Her hands would always have blood on them no matter how hard she scrubbed. Even if the blood was no longer visible she would always feel it; she could always smell it. It didn't matter what fine clothing she wore or what perfume she dabbed on; that coppery odor would never dissipate.

And that would never change.

She was barely twenty when she met him. Despite her young age, however, she was already a ruthless assassin. Her name had spread like a red plague in the underworld. She had more kills attached to that name than she could count on her fingers.

He had been sent to kill her.

She wasn't surprised.

When asked to join S.H.I.E.L.D, however, she was a bit taken aback. She was also couldn't believe that the man whom had been sent to kill her was now her partner. He was the only person she dared trust. Their relationship hadn't started out like that—it had been a gradual process—but it was building itself up to something great bit by bit. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, Clint Barton had changed her. He was her best friend; her reliant. They trusted each other with their lives. Neither of them were saints. There were some things they didn't share. But the mutual trust was still there. That was just how it worked. She just needed someone to trust and someone to trust her. It wasn't love. No, it wasn't love. Love is for children; a Red Room concept she still grasped.

Only a pair of assassins could have a relationship as intimate and acrid as theirs.

It was ironic how her partner would later stop at nothing to kill her. To be fair, it wasn't his fault. Baton had been a ruthless Asgardian prince's personal slave. She didn't like to dwell on this too much—it was just too painful to let her mind wander sometimes. The Trickster had used Barton against her; planned to turn them against each other. He'd summarized her innermost thoughts into one brief conversation spoken through a sheet of glass. She had felt so… _vulnerable _at the mercy of the Liesmith's words. She hated to admit it, but the Trickster had been right. Her ledger _was _a gushing red; she'd been a liar and a killer in the service of liars and killers.

Liars and killer.

Not the same thing but akin.

She likes to tell herself that emotions are useless; that she doesn't need them. Emotions get in the way of a job well done. But, being human, she did possess the innate instinct to feel. She just learned to conceal. That didn't meant she didn't feel anything, though. There were times when she'd felt angry or frustrated. Vulnerable. Hopeless. Afraid.

But her masks had yet to fail her.

Sometimes it was better to let everyone else think she felt nothing. They might label her as weak otherwise.

Then came the Avengers.

She wasn't sure how to feel when she met them. Would they cooperate? Would this initiative thing even work? Would they like her? She liked to tell herself that she didn't care much for the latter. She wasn't one to look for approval; she knew she was good at what she did. But this was her new team. This was the grudgingly rare occasion in which she looked for solace.

Being part of a team was strange. The black widow—her arachnid namesake—killed its own kind. She is the Black Widow; the solo assassin who relied on no one but herself. For years the only company she'd had was Barton. One person was enough. But a team? She was doubtful it would even work; they'd kill each other before accomplishing anything. Much to her surprise, however, they had managed to save the world. Their only motivation had been the death of a friend.

She tried to pretend death didn't bother her. But it did. The countless lives she'd had taken meant nothing when a friend fell. It mattered when it was someone she cared about. Coulson had been a friend.

The Avengers were like a family now. A _very _dysfunctional family. But a family nonetheless.

Family.

She didn't know what a family really was. Her birth family was taken from her at the tender age of six. She'd been forced to watch her entire young life go up in flames.

Then Ivan found her.

He promised to look after her as a father would; to treat her as his daughter. For a while, she'd been content with that promise. She bought into this pretty lie; she'd been a scared little girl who wanted comfort. She had been one of Ivan's star pupils; the pinnacle of the Red Room. The Room taught its inhabitants harsh lessons through even harsher experiences. But at the end of the day, she remembered being gracious to learn and excel. It wasn't until after that she realized what _exactly _she had learned there.

The Red Room had also taken away her ability to start a family of her own. Coming from her, that sounded trivial. But she knew it was something she would want.

Until recently, family had meant backstabbing, deception and inevitable heartbreak. The ones she held closest to her were the only one that could hurt her. It was a good thing she didn't throw her trust around so carelessly.

But now her connotation of the word could be inaccurate.

Her new _slightly _dysfunctional family would be there for her. They all had their flaws and demons to fight. Their ledgers were all stained a nasty shade of red in one way or another. It was hard to believe such a band of misfits could do good.

She wasn't invincible—none of them were—that much she knew. But she liked to pretend. She knew her masks well; knew how to restrain and control. She'd been so many things in her life: a spy, an assassin, a soldier, a dancer, an actress, a PA. But she still didn't know who she truly was; there was too much to analyze.

The Black Widow is proud of who she is.

But Natasha Romanoff isn't.

The Black Widow is a machine; cold, ruthless. Natasha Romanoff has feelings, insecurities and fear. She was all too human. The Widow has just influenced her enough to the point where she just doesn't show it.

She wants to wipe some of the red off her ledger. She won't ever have a clean slate again but she could _try. _Some of that blood just might come off.

The Black Widow is Natasha Romanoff.

But is Natasha Romanoff the Black Widow?

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**Reviews make me very happy.**

**- Lily **


	2. Tin Man

**A/N: Update coming your way! I have spring break next week, so I'll be upoloading at least one to two chapters in the following days. Actually, I take that back; I have, like, eighty billion projects due the Monday I come back. Again, I apologuze for inaccuracy of any canon info (while I do read comics, Avengers titles aren't on my pull list, hehe. I stick to my dark vigilantes and anti-heroes). I pulled most of this from MarvelWiki and the movies. Enjoy!**

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**II. Tin Man**

_"I do have a responsibility to keep my inventions from evil hands—but I have a greater responsibility to oppose that evil any way I can. So, Tony Stark may have done his bit out there, but only Iron Man can do what has to be done… So… I guess Iron Man will be around for a while."_

Anthony Edward Stark is a self-proclaimed billionaire, genius, playboy and philanthropist. He likes attention—loves the spotlight—and to be recognized. Tony Stark is also Iron Man. The suit is as much a part of him as his ego. Though the press gets annoying, the guy inside the suit has to get some credit too, right?

No, if the suit gets attention, he does too.

He is one with the suit.

Iron is a strong and sturdy metal used to build buildings and bridges. It has an atomic weight of 55.845; it's right in the middle of the periodic table. Iron is strong; Tony tells himself that's the reason why he's _Iron Man _and not _Tin Man._

There's research saying that children with attention issues have a tendency for inflated egos, and self-esteem issues as adults. Normally, if Tony can't prove anything himself, he'd call it BS. However—as much as he hated to admit it—there _might _be a glimmer of truth in that theory. If he had to be honest, he only saw his father, like, ten times during his childhood. Half of those times Howard was drunk. The other half, he was in a pissy mood (yeah—Howard would never win a "father of the year" award) His mother, Maria, payed her son attention only when he was a problem. From an early age, Tony learned not to intervene in his parent's lives nor expect praise from anyone.

He wasn't completely alone, though.

He had Jarvis—whom was more like a father than Howard ever was—and Dummy. His robots were his own; he built them. They would never betray him or let him down. They wouldn't leave him.

Tony didn't trust people.

That aloofness was one of the reasons why he didn't play well with others. Whenever he trusted someone or thought they were friends, they ended up leaving him. Or using him. Or betraying him.

Friends.

How many friends did he _actually _have?

Well, there was Rhodey. But the idiot had stolen his suit. See, betrayal? There was Jarvis. While Tony liked machines more than people, he was sure an AI didn't count as a friend. The real Edwin Jarvis—his childhood butler and friend—was long, long, long dead. There was the Avengers. Did Earth's Mightiest Heroes count as _friends_?

It wasn't that Tony _hated_ his new team. No, quite the contrary, actually. While he did want to—_ahem—_throttle _some _of them for star-spangled bigots, maybe being part of team wasn't so bad. Saving the world from an alien invasion _had _to count as pastime, right?

When Fury told him that SHIELD wanted Ironman as part of their exclusive boy band, Tony almost laughed out loud. How the hell would the Initiative even work? Firstly, anyone who wanted him on team had to be either blind or insane (well, Fury's a mixture of both, actually). Yeah, sure, okay; Iron Man is pretty awesome. But he wasn't a team player. Tony liked to do everything alone; individualism was in his nature. Secondly, how would this team—consisting of two sociopathic assassins, a big green guy with _major_ anger issues, a Norse god with daddy issues, a ninety year old patriotic virgin, and _Tony Stark_— work? They'd probably kill each other before killing the bad guy.

Surprisingly, when push came to shove, they'd all put their differences aside and became the bad-ass team they were now. The Avengers fought the battles nobody else could and would fight. They'd fight to protect the Earth from any threat; they'd fight for the ones who couldn't. All this was achieved through the death of a friend and an agent.

Did he trust them? Maybe. It was too soon to tell.

And then there's Pepper.

He loves her; he genuinely _loves _her. She'd been the only one to stick around. She put up with his arrogant, narcissist and selfish self. She is the one there at night to chase the nightmares away. She's running _his _company, for God's sake.

She knows him more than he knows himself.

Tony knows he doesn't deserve her. He flew through a space portal with a nuke without saying _goodbye _to her. He doesn't even remember the amount of times he'd been in mortal danger and forgotten about her.

But she keeps him going.

And he's so scared to lose her.

He's scared that she'll eventually leave, too. He's sure she's the only person he _really _loves.

And trusts.

Love and trust; two almost foreign concepts to him.

At one point, he'd trusted Obadiah Stane. Where had that gotten him?—Afghanistan: where he had turned himself into a living weapon. There he built his suit and there he built the reactor.

As much as he hated the damn thing, he had to begrudgingly admit it kept him alive. It was a constant reminder of how _fragile _he was; of how a piece of shrapnel could end his life. He'd never forget Afghanistan; the nightmares would never go away. Some nights, he would wake up sweating and panting. Some nights, however, he just wouldn't wake up. But Pepper was there and she kept him grounded. Recently, he found out how hard it is to really change. Before, he had been manufacturing weapons. He'd only cared for himself. Now, he had someone to care about and someone to care about him. Gone was his stubbornness and pride—well, sort of—and the booze was kept under lock.

He tried his hardest not to be the person he was before.

Because he isn't invincible.

_He _isn't invincible; the _suit _is. Deep down he knows that.

But Tony Stark and Iron Man are the same person, right? Tony just controls the suit. He doesn't have a split personality that comes out only when he's Iron Man. No; they're one and the same.

So… By all means, isn't Tony Stark invincible, too?

If he took off the suit, he was a five-foot-eight genius with a sharp tongue and an affinity for the finer things. If he put on the suit, he was _still _a five-foot-eight genius with a sharp tongue and an affinity for the finger things (only now he could fly). Maybe Captain "I'm-Too-Righteous-For-You" America was right; Tony _is _selfish and arrogant. Maybe those are two things that won't ever change—suit or not—because Tony Stark is Iron Man. They share the same characteristics, the same personality and that damn reactor. Well, no, they don't _share _anything; it's impossible to share with yourself.

So why does he consider himself a part of the suit yet not? It's simple, really; Iron Man is a hero and Tony Stark is not. Iron Man saves lives and Tony Stark is still scrambling to fix his own.

He's still in the process of clearing his ledger—as red as his suit—so he can start again. So he can be someone different. It's taking a while—patience is not a virtue he possessed—but he'll get there in time. In the end, however, all metals rust. Iron is no exception. He'll give up the suit one day, he knows it. It'll be hard. He'll refuse. But he knows he has to do it.

And even if he's impatient, that is a day he is willing to wait for.

Because he _is _Iron Man.

He wants to be a hero.

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**Reviews make me happy. - Lily **


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